Understanding Icarus
by Vader's Fallen Angel
Summary: Obi-Wan never understood Icarus.
1. Of Myths and Understanding

Obi-Wan didn't understand Ircaus or Daedalus.

The first time he heard the story he was in his Cultures and Myths class, listening to Jedi Knight Qel tell the Nubian story.

_There once was a clever inventor by the name of Daedalus. He lived first in Athens, then Crete, then Sicily, before finally settling in Sardinia. In each place he did his best to serve the queens and kings, knowing his duty. Sometimes his talents and creations were distorted and used unwisely, but he did not despair knowing that all things, no matter how pure, can be exploited and his duty did not change. Most of the time however his inventions were used well and when they were not he did all he could to undo the damage._

_Daedalus unintentionally played a role in the creation of the minator. But the man contained it. Later the inventor helped the hero who freed the people, but in doing so betrayed his king, Minos. Minos in a rage sealed him and his son in the labyrinth that Daedalus himself had built._

Here the class paused to discuss duty, more specifically the duty of Daedalus to his rulers and the Jedi to the Republic. Their duty was to the Republic, but was the Republic a system of government that worked best for all people and was thus above the duty to individuals? Was that not why they had the rule against attachments? Or was the Republic they were sworn to serve the people themselves? Wasn't the point of government to serve the people? What if the government hurt the people of the Republic as a whole? Then the Jedi should be on the side of the people, should they not? But where was the line drawn?

(Many years later Obi-Wan would yell that he was loyal to the Republic, but then would change his words and claim to be loyal to democracy instead. But not loyal enough, he discovered, to deliver the final blow.)

_Daedalus escaped the labyrinth easily enough – he was its creator and knew it as none other. But how to escape Crete entirely, for he now knew that was what he must do. Minos controlled the land and sea – there would be no escape from the island though boat. Star ships had not yet been invented, but clever Daedalus saw the birds climb and swoop in freedom._

_ "Minos controls both land and sea, but not the regions of air and it is there we shall make our escape."_

_ Daedalus fashioned wings for himself and his son Icarus. He took feathers fallen from the birds, attaching larger ones with string, securing the smaller ones with wax and curving them like a birds. His son did the best he could to help. Sometimes eagerly running to collect feathers the wind tried to steal, other times tending to the wax. Even in captivity his eyes sparkled with play. Yet sometimes he would impede his father's work more than help it along. Deadalus could be frustrated with his child, but loved him still and did his best to teach the boy, even when Icarus did not wish to learn._

_ At last the work was done and the artist lifted himself into the air, then taught his child to do the same as a bird leads her younglings from the nest to the air. At last all was in place and Deadalus called his child to him._

_"Icarus, my son, listen to me. When you fly, go neither too low nor too high. If you go too low the sea will dampen your wings and make your journey difficult. But it is the heights that you must truly fear for the sun will melt the wax and I will not be able to stop your plunge into the sea below. Keep with me my child, and you shall be safe."_

_ He trembled as he fitted his son with the wings, worried and knowing the trip was dangerous. But what choice did he have? Icarus could not remain hidden, trapped, a prisoner in all but name, for his whole life. He would have to take the chance to let his son fly and trust Icarus to make the right choice and obey him. So with tears on his face he kissed his child and they took to the air, Deadalus often glancing back from his own flight to see how his son fared. _

_As they took to the air adults stopped their work and children their play to watch, astonished. Some murmured as they soared by that these were surely not ordinary humans to so cleave the air. Deadalus continued on while Icarus listened to their words. They flew from Crete well enough and it seemed that Deadalus' invention would bear them to safety. But Icarus grew proud and careless._

_ "I am like a god not a man to so easily take to the air!" he cried and no longer took pains to follow his father._

_ Once, twice, three times Deadalus called to him and chastised his son, reminding the boy to stay closer and not take so many risks. Why could he not stay by his father where he would be safe? And yet, as wise as he was, Deadalus could not stop the smile that flitted across his face as he saw his son's joy and heard the boy's laughter. A small part of him whispered to let his child have this jubilation – it was Icarus' first taste of freedom – even as his mind knew the dangers. _

_ But Icarus' happiness proved to be short lived. He climbed higher and higher, growing more confident with each small victory. He grew angry at his father's chastising._

_ "He's just jealous," Icarus' pride hissed, "he's holding you back."_

_ Once, twice, three times Icarus' wings faltered, and he began to fall, but each time he caught himself. But he was careless, arrogant, and drunk on the exhilaration of freedom. For though Deadalus had memories of the times before he was imprisoned, Icarus had no such experience. And Deadalus, wise as he was, had not thought of how wings would feel to one who knew only chains._

_ Icarus began to climb, higher and higher, as if to embrace Heaven! The sun god Helios, a warm guide to those far below him, proved Deadalus' words true. The wax on Icarus' wings began to melt and he fell. He called out and Deadalus, flying ahead, turned only in time to see his child fall from the light sky and plunge into the dark, unforgiving sea. Crying out he flew over the spot his son had fell and watched, unable to do anything, as his child sank deeper and deeper into the darkness until he could see him no more._

_ Daedalus landed in Sicily and hung up his wings as an offering to the gods and mourned his child and his failure._

The class discussed what the story meant and it was clear that Icarus was responsible for his own fate. Obi-Wan really couldn't understand either Daedalus or Icarus. Icarus was arrogant and caused his own fall. If Daedalus were really so wise he would have realized this and not mourned so. His failure, if there was one, came much earlier when he had not nipped his child's pride in the bud. But still while in the air Daedalus did his best and nothing more could be asked of him, save perhaps not to have given in to the temptation to let his child be happy at the expense of Icarus' safety. Obi-Wan would do his paper, but really, he couldn't understand Daedalus or Icarus at all.


	2. Of Arrogance and Wax Wings

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus, but he learned to have a lot of sympathy for Daedalus.

"Anakin you're going to get yourself killed one day! Why can't you learn the concept of sense?"

Anakin shrugged lazily though there was a spark of defiance in his eyes that betrayed his nonchalance, "nothing risked, nothing gained. I didn't hear you complaining when Master Qui-Gon's bet paid off and everyone got off Tatooine."

Obi-Wan took a moment to silently curse the society Anakin grew up in that not only promoted gambling, but also taught him to treat his own life so cheaply. Just another thing to be bet in the races, no different than a few coins. Just another object used for entertainment, same as a pod.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't risk your life for a cause if necessary. That is the duty of the Jedi, I will not deny that, but you're putting yourself in danger when there are other options."

"I didn't have to speak with Padme, I didn't have to invite them home, I didn't have to offer to help when I was only a kid and it seemed stupid to think I could do anything," Anakin replied, "there were other options. You may have all made it off the planet without me. However few options there were, I'm sure there was at least one that didn't involve a pod race.

But I would still be there. It was because I was willing to risk everything to help others, even though I didn't think I would get anything out of it, that I took my first steps into a larger world."

"It worked, but if it hadn't do you think anyone would have been better off? Furthermore Master Qui-Gon was an adult who thought through and understood the risks and consequences. He, Watto, and Shmi made the ultimate decision. You offered your services, yes, but you were and are a child and it's the place of your caretakers to decide when risks are acceptable and when they are not."

Anakin looked murderous at being called a child before remembering he was a teenager and went back to pretending he didn't care what adults thought.

"I consider your safety first and foremost. I'm your master. It's my duty," Obi-Wan briefly felt a flash of what might have been betrayal from Anakin that was quickly subdued. "Your duty is to listen and learn from me. Right now I'm teaching you to stay alive. To stick to the tested, sensible paths. To not throw yourself into everything whole-heartedly, heedless of your own safety."

Anakin continued his valiant attempt at pretending boredom though his stormy ocean-eyes and tense body would have betrayed him even if Obi-Wan didn't have access to the Force. Anakin had the feeling of a caged nexu, bristling and… afraid? Of what Obi-Wan didn't know, but he had the feeling Anakin saw him as the one with the cage keys.

"You call that life? Stifling, smothering, safety? A pod racer that never leaves the hanger may be safe, but that is not why it was built."

But you're not a pod, Obi-Wan wanted to say. You're a person, a living being not an object. But Anakin would be insulted by that. They had this conversation before because though Anakin claimed that he was a person, had even before he was free, he didn't act like it. Still, this was not a conversation that they needed to revisit today.

"Your life is important," Obi-Wan took a deep breath as Anakin's jaw clenched, wafer-thin pretense of indifference disappearing completely, and he had a feeling his ever-frustrating padwan knew what conversation he hadn't brought up. "Your life is not something that can be replaced like a ship or a lightsaber can."

"I thought you said my lightsaber was my life?" Clearly the reprimand Anakin received after his master noticed his saber was missing (and they searched what seemed like half the city before finding it between the couch cushions in their room) still stung, "besides, I'm still alive, aren't I? I win, don't I? The old, safe, sensible plans work. But then, so do my new, reckless, impulsive plans. So long as both work how can you call one better?"

Obi-Wan managed to resist the urge to pull out his hair and scream. He felt quite proud of himself.

"Anakin you need to stop this, this arrogance, this ambition. It's unbecoming for a Jedi."

Anakin faced him full on now, standing with his arms crossed and looking as defiant as a fourteen-year-old could.

"If no one tried new things, new ideas, if no one tried to make things better, then we'd all be sitting around on separate planets, naked, and saying, "ho, hum, I guess this is all there is". You have to try to be better to make anything of yourself."

"There's a big difference between trying to be your best and showing off in front of your peers or acting like you know better than your teachers."

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to be my best, I'm supposed to be better than everyone else. After all, I'm the Chosen One" Anakin was never good at controlling his emotions and hadn't yet learned to control his end of the master-padawan bond so Obi-Wan heard as clear as day, _I have to be the best because so many exceptions were made for me. If I'm not better than everyone else then all the sacrifices that Mom and Master Qui-Gon made meant nothing._

It was times like these when Obi-Wan really wanted the ability to find his old master and hit the man over the head with something heavy and spiky.

"You're not all powerful."

"Well I should be."

"No, you should learn to keep your feet on the ground and be humble before someone else comes along to humble you."

Anakin jutted his chin out, "Mom always said shoot for the suns, if you fail you'll at least land among the stars."

"Arrogance will only give you wax wings!"

Anakin looked at him, confused, and Obi-Wan realized what he had said. But before he could say anything more Anakin spoke again, quietly this time. "I did not escape the binds of slavery to be chained to the ground."

"You can't fall when your feet are on the ground. I just don't want you to set yourself up for failure."

Anakin gave what would become his arrogant smirk, "yeah, but where's the fun in that? Besides I won't fall, I'm a sky walker, remember?"


	3. Of Trust, Dreams, and Candle Wax

Thanks to Tanydwr's story "Dark Queen and White Knight" for inspiration.

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Obi-Wan never understood Icarus, but he thought he was learning to understand Daedalus.

He was lying in bed looking over at his beaten padawan. He really should be getting around to reading the reports on the battle of Genosis, but he currently had the excuse of being so drugged as to not be thinking clearly yet and he was going to use it. Oh Anakin.

Looking at his brother/son/student's severed sword arm the teacher in him pointed out that it would have never happened if Anakin hadn't been so proud and Obi-Wan would really have to teach him to control his temper. The father in him pointed out it was his own fault for not teaching Anakin better and wanted to lock the boy in a tower so the rest of the world could never hurt him again. The brother in him wanted to go beat Dooku up. Obi-Wan decided that the last two were the drugs talking. But because it was the drugs talking, he didn't stop his line of thought.

Seeing your child so hurt, so broken, surpassed any pain Obi-Wan had known in his life. He wanted to go back in time and knock Anakin unconscious or maybe let him jump out of the gunship after Senator Amidala. Push him out of the gunship after Amidala if it came to that. Anything would be better than lying here and letting Anakin pretend that he was asleep so Obi-Wan wouldn't comment on the tear tracks.

Obi-Wan's heart felt like someone had taken a vibroblade to it. Dooku would have caused him less pain if the Sith ripped out his still beating heart and done the Kuat shuffle on it wearing a pair of Satine Kryze's more ridiculous shoes. Obi-Wan suddenly saw the rather disturbing image of Dooku dancing in jeweled high heals and decided that not only was he blaming this on whatever the droids gave him, he was also suppressing the image forever.

Anakin had flown so high, so certain of his triumph. Obi-Wan knew the fall was coming, but hadn't been able to stop it though Force knew he tried.

He felt Senator Amidala's force signature outside the door and closed his eyes. He subdued his force presence as if he were sleeping, a ruse he had not gotten around to teaching Anakin yet, he had enough problems getting the boy in bed on time when he was younger _without_ Anakin knowing that particular trick.

Anakin and Amidala spoke softly to one another, comforting one another. Obi-Wan opened an eye just enough to see Amidala sweep a hand across Anakin's brow. They looked tenderly into the other's eyes and Obi-Wan didn't need the force to tell him that they were in love.

But how far would they go? How much would they risk? He knew the two could be idealistic, but Amidala was practical and levelheaded, while Anakin's childhood left him little room for naivety. Did they think this could last? Did they think the universe would change to accommodate them because they were in love? But then, they were young. Obi-Wan remembered his feelings for Siri. How it felt like they were at the center each other's universes for a time. But in the end the two of them chose the Jedi.

Anakin wouldn't. He would try to have it all. So very foolish. No one could fly to the sun on wings held together with hope and candle wax. But… shouldn't he have the chance to try.

Obi-Wan silently sighed. What should he do with his grown-up padawan, his newly adult son still living in the house? Was now the time to rein him in, or give him a chance to fly? Obi-Wan asked the Force for guidance in dealing with his headstrong, good-hearted boy. Confront Anakin, encourage him, or turn a blind eye and a deaf ear.

It seemed so harmless. Anakin had grown up knowing love and maybe letting Anakin love Amidala would help him through the coming war. Could he even stop the boy? Or would Obi-Wan only drive a wedge between himself and his padawan when they least needed it? But there was the code and there were _rules_ and there were reasons for those rules. What defense could he muster save that he loved his little brother/son?

Obi-Wan was always unsure where he stood with his padwan in terms of affection. Was he showing too much, or not enough? Sometimes he felt like he was too much the teacher, appearing more interested in Anakin being perfect and not enough about Anakin. These days it seemed like he was always scolding the boy over something or another, but wary of giving praise in the face of the boy's arrogance. Afraid that his judgment was compromised by caring about Anakin too much.

Obi-Wan never thought it would be a problem. He cared for others over the Jedi before – the incident with Cerasi on Melida/Daan for example. But there was a cause involved there as well. Anakin may have been the "Chosen One" (he was going to go back in time and gag whomever made that thrice damned prophecy!) but Obi-Wan saw him as Anakin, just Anakin.

When do you trust your child and when do you hold him back? Be unattached, but how? How do you stop yourself from loving your child? Family or country? Love or duty? He never dreamed of having to make such a choice again. And he found himself even less prepared the second time.

"_What does it matter what happens to the rest of the universe so long as he is finally at peace? What do you care if numbers of nameless, faceless people die in the vague future if here and now he is content? He has suffered enough, let him have this, whatever the consequences,"_ a voice mocked.

Then it laughed, _"does he really matter so much Jedi Kenobi? Do you care more for his dream than your duty; more for his temporary happiness than your master's dieing wish; more for his heart than Jedi principles; more for his life than the lives of others?"_

But this was foolishness. Obi-Wan shook his head to clear away the voice. Anakin falling in love did not equal Darkness, Doom, Death, and The End of the Universe as We Know It! (Complete with people running screaming through the streets, buildings burning, and well-timed lightening strikes just for good measure.) Really, Jedi had fallen in love before, he was sure of it. Jedi had broken the Code before and the sky did not fall. Honestly, he thought he'd gotten rid of his melodramatic tendencies when he left his teenage years. This was definitely the drugs talking and he pushed away any vague notions to the contrary.

Maybe it was all for the best anyway. They were entering dark times. Anakin was a good person. He was brave, compassionate, and strong. Impulsive and hotheaded at times, but his heart was in the right place. If Obi-Wan were forced to choose someone perfect for his padwan Amidala would definitely be on the list. She was passionate, intelligent, and kind. A little naïve and over trusting, but she was strong-willed and refused to let her purpose be compromised. He was the strength and she was the wisdom; he was the power and she was the restraint; he was the devotion and she was the love; he was the heart and she was the soul. She was just right for him and he was made for her. Maybe they were perfect for each other for a reason.

Obi-Wan was not blind. For all he loved Anakin, he knew the younger man was far from perfect. Anakin was arrogant, ruthless, vengeful, quick to anger, competitive, immature, defensive, possessive, and conflicted. And buried deep within Anakin was a dark streak. In the right circumstances Obi-Wan knew in his heart, even if he had never seen anything to suggest he was right, that Anakin could be violent, bloodthirsty, and cruel. War brought out the best and worst in men. Maybe Padme could help. Maybe she could hold back the madness, draw Anakin from the darkness. Exceptions were made for Anakin before, perhaps just one more rule…

_And yet, as wise as he was, Deadalus could not stop the smile that flitted across his face as he saw his son's joy and heard the boy's laughter. A small part of him whispered to let his child have this jubilation – it was Icarus' first taste of freedom – even as his mind knew the dangers._

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin. His padwan was smiling, looking at peace, and for the first time in what seemed like years, but was closer to months, the shadows in his eyes began to retreat. Seeing the pain fall away from Anakin's face, Obi-Wan felt his heart settle, as if bands he didn't know were there suddenly loosened and fell away.

Well,_ "love makes wise men of fools and fools of wise men,"_ as the saying went._  
_

"_So what are we Anakin? Wise men or fools?"_ Obi-Wan adjusted slightly on the bed. "_If we are wise then I will have to thank you someday teaching me. If we are fools, then which of us is more foolish? You for running in, or me for following you? Yes a truly tremendous question,"_ the Jedi mused, settling back, yanking his thoughts away from his padwan, _"who's more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him? An excellent line. I really shall have to use it someday."_

News of war traveled. People were eager, afraid, plotting, resigned, angered. On the surface of Genonosis survivors grimly picked their way through the twisted metal wreckage and blood-splattered sands. But none of this pierced the cool, white infantry of steady beeps, whooshes of oxygen, and quiet murmurs hovering above. There Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker leaned up to lightly brush his lips across those of the woman he would one day burn the universe for and Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes.


	4. Of Sense and Soaring

Obi-Wan couldn't understand Icarus.

Which was only fair because Anakin couldn't understand Daedalus.

"I do not have the sense to be Daedalus." Those were the words Obi-Wan overheard his once-padwan say as he walked by the ship's common area and the first clue he had that Anakin heard Icarus' story.

"Sense Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked as he walked in. There was a group lounging in the common room talking and relaxing. Most were clones, but Etain Tur-Mukan was reading a datapad in the chair next to the door, (Obi-Wan acknowledged his fellow Jedi with a nod) and some there were volunteers from different worlds. Former civilians who believed enough in the Republic to fight and die for her if needed. Obi-Wan recognized one of the officers as having come from Naboo and supposed he was the one who told the myth.

Anakin was reclining on the sofa against the left wall, one leg up, the other stretched out, his dark cloak tossed over the back of the couch. Rex sat next to him; drink in hand. Anakin looked over when Obi-Wan entered the room, though he must have sensed him in the corridor. His smile was welcoming, teasing.

"Deadalus – afraid of sun and sea, fire and water, light and dark. Deadalus' way was dull, muted gray. He was too weak for black, too timid for white," Anakin scorned, but his eyes watched Obi-Wan in half-lidded challenge, inviting a response.

"Deadalus was a wise, rational man who was careful. He avoided the extremes, kept to the middle ground, and completed his escape without loosing his life."

"That's why you're The Negotiator and not me" Anakin flashed another smile at Obi-Wan's scowl. Anakin _knew_ how much he hated that name. "Middle ground is something I just can't understand." Then Anakin's expression sifted slightly, hardening by a merest fraction.

"Deadalus' wisdom made him a fool.

Too sensible to live, he spent his time calculating how not to die."

"And he did. In the end Icarus was a foolish child who would not listen and paid for it. Deadalus was much more cautious and succeeded."

Anakin scoffed at his master's response. "He succeeded, if you can call landing success. But despite making wings he did not fly. He arrived at his destination, but made no note of the journey save to make sure it was planned, controlled, safe. He did not roll with the sea or play with the wind. He did not seek the sun or brush the clouds. Not too low, not too high. Straight ahead; ignore all other directions; ignore any other possibilities. Is that all life is? Planning each part to accomplish each reasonable goal?"

Etain had set aside her datapad and watched them go back and forth biting her lip nervously. Some of the more lax troops leaned back and watched the two of them, amused. A few others looked interested in the conversation and listened avidly.

"Straight ahead will get you where you need to go."

"Straight ahead you cannot go very far. Only forward, only to land you know, never to the stars, never to more than you could have dreamed. If you only do what's always done then you'll only be what always been. There is more to the universe than what is beyond the horizon of any one planet. How can you visit the stars going sensibly straight?"

"Sense keeps you safe."

"Sense holds you back. It would be sensible live life quietly, sensible to wait and see, sensible not to try, sensible not to dream, sensible to plan solely for the most likely future, sensible to look after yourself first, sensible to think things through, sensible not to take a chance, sensible to not be the first, sensible to do nothing and watch others try to do what you wouldn't because you were sensible.

What of passion? What of adventure? What of trying without knowing? What of throwing yourself in the air without triple-checking the net? What of living without restrictions? How else can you truly know how high it is possible to fly? How can you use sense to soar?" Anakin's eyes met Obi-Wan's, alive and intense; trying to convey the message through more than words, trying to make him understand.

There was a certain tenseness to the room now. The other residents could sense it, their amused grins and lazy smiles slowly slipping away as the two talked, and now everyone was paying attention.

"There are more chains in this universe than slavery, more limits than gravity. What is the point of living restrained? Why not try to break them all?"

"Icarus tried. Icarus died."

"Deadalus was dead before he took to the air. In the end Icarus died, but first he lived."

Obi-Wan saw something in Anakin's ocean blue eyes, (passion? desire? excitement?) and felt his heart sink. The Negotiator he may have been, but now he found himself needing to speak, and not able to find the words. So instead he just gave a fond, exasperated smile.

"Anakin you'll be the death of me one day," he sighed, "I don't suppose there is any possible way to show you the benefits of being cautious before you nearly kill yourself in our next battle?"

The room gave a collective, silent sigh as the conversation moved back to familiar territory. They all knew banter, it was the only thing that kept them sane sometimes. Anakin gave an exaggerated pout. "I don't do it for the thrill you know."

"No. You do it because at that moment you truly feel it's the right thing to do and I was never able to pound the concept of self-preservation into your head. Still, despite your less-than-flattering character examination, it might be a good idea to mimic Daedalus one day and at least make an attempt to be less suicidal and more sensible." Despite the tugging at his lips and the tone, a part of Obi-Wan hoped that some of his words would sink in.

But Anakin just laughed, cocked his head, and flashed his former master, always father/brother, one of his devil-may-care grins.

"Oh Master, I'll try my best. But like I was saying, I just never had enough sense to be Daedalus."


	5. Of Suns and Floating Feathers

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus, but he understood Daedalus.

Kneeling in front of the recording, watching as Anakin twisted away from one blow and brought around his saber for a follow up. He could predict all of Anakin's moves perfectly. Most of them he could remember teaching. Recognizing a sweeping move he taught his thirteen-year-old padwan, how proud he was that day, even if he didn't show it. Anakin progressed so very quickly with his saberplay. Obi-Wan thought he should feel sick watching those same moves used to kill his extended family. But he didn't. Instead he felt…

Nothing.

Was this what Daedalus felt? This cold, numb despair that kept you from feeling anything else at all.

_Watching Icarus plunge out of the sky, a great terrible splash, then the ripples brushed over by the small wind-birthed waves, and all going on as if nothing happened. But beneath the surface Icarus was sinking._

_One arm reaching up, fingers slightly curled as if he were truing to hold on to something. The other flung back trying to stop his fall. With the white wings still attached he would have looked like a fallen angel. An angel that flew too high, trusted the light sun too much, and who fell to the dark sea._

(Obi-Wan vaguely remembered reading somewhere that all demons were actually fallen angels.)

_So Icarus sank into the darkness while Deadalus hovered above, watching, wanting to help but it was too late._

_And then he Icarus was gone, given to the dark. All that was left was a few white feathers floating on the surface._

Obi-Wan wished he did not understand Daedalus as well as he did.

The Republic was dead, the Jedi were killed, his padwan, former padwan, was a Sith. And yet when he snuck onto Coruscant after escaping the Clone Troopers he fought beside for three years, it seemed nothing had changed. On the surface, people still went about their daily lives as if the heart and conscious of the Republic had not just been destroyed, as if the Republic itself had not just died.

The ships, including the one he stowed away on, still docked. As he passed a cantina he heard yelling and someone was forcibly ejected. Someone noticed the Jedi before he could slip into the shadows, then turned and looked the other way in a deliberate motion that clearly meant he saw nothing and certainly wasn't going to tell anyone if he had. Leaving the lower levels he saw a young Twi'lek couple exit a baby store while an older Nalroni couple watched with fond smiles, obviously reminiscing.

"Hear about the Jedi?" came a voice.

"Yeah, hard to miss" grumbled his companion, gesturing in the vague direction of the smoking temple "even if it wasn't on every fripping holonet channel."

"So what do you think?"

"Ehh, never really approved of their war anyway. So are you going to join us tomorrow night or you off with Sinya again?"

"Think this empire will raise taxes?" a woman asked her friend as they got in their speeder.

"Probably not. That Palpatine has always been a good one, not like most politicians."

"What does empire mean?" a boy asked, following his mother into a food store.

"It means the universe has changed," she replied simply. Her face was calm, but she glanced around carefully as she spoke. The child's brow furrowed, but he was clearly old enough to pick up this was a topic best left alone for now and fell silent as his mother checked the price of xirlias.

Weaving up to the Temple Obi-Wan heard conversations of this and that, mostly people going about their lives, same as they always had. The "Jedi Rebellion" and the Empire were news, but nothing more, just floating feathers.

"Mom," a young girl asked, "why do good people become bad?" Obi-Wan didn't stay long enough to hear a reply, but smiled. Whatever else happened trust younglings to ask the impossible questions.

Now Obi-Wan found himself asking the same question. Like Deadalus hovering over the sea and watching his child's fall and asking, "why?" and "what could I have done differently?"

He was tempted to put all the blame on Palpatine. Palpatine who was Sidious. They thought he was a politician, not trustworthy, but not a Sith! Blind. They had been blind. Obi-Wan especially. He knew of Palatine's influence on Anakin. He saw the Chancellor's effect on his padwan. Why didn't he do something?

Palpatine appeared to be smiling, kind, warm, patient, a mentor and guide. Most people just accepted that he was there, powerful and present. Just accepting his presence like they did the presence of the moon and the sun. But for all the sun was warm, space was cold. Fly too high, too close, and you'll find the sun was nothing like it appeared from the ground. It was harsh and apathetic.

Palpatine was worse than apathetic. He was triumphant as Anakin fell. How Obi-Wan wanted to blame that bishwag completely! But Anakin made his own choice. And too as Palpatine had succeeded as a mentor, so he had failed.

Failure. It was such an ugly word. He failed before. He was almost never trained as a Jedi. Maybe that would have been better.

As he left the Temple, Yoda's orders weighing heavily on him, he tried to remember, tried to pick out that one point, that one moment where things changed. That one instant where the universe pivoted. The little detail that would make the other pieces fall into place. The time where he should have spoken but remained silent. Or was there a time when he should have kept silent, but spoke?

No. He needed to stop this. Such thinking was self-destructive and unhelpful. Yes he failed. Yes he should have done differently. Should he have asked what was behind the laughing eyes and carefree smile? Confronted him about Padme instead of waiting for him to confide? Maybe he should have stood between Anakin and the Council more. Anakin would not have felt so alone, so persecuted. Or perhaps he should not have defended him so? Spare the thogk, spoil the young, as the saying went.

Anakin had so many good traits, Obi-Wan tried to eliminate the bad ones before they bloomed, but Anakin showcased all his virtues so well, it was easy to be complacent. Anakin was good at wearing masks. So very good. He was the classical hero; brave, honorable, loyal, selfless, clever, joyful. Had he, like everyone else, been too caught up in the good to see the bad? Anakin claimed Obi-Wan did nothing but criticize. Should he have shown more support? Should he have trusted more? Allowed Anakin greater freedom so that he didn't feel the need to take to the shadows. Now his thoughts were going in circles.

He had failed as a Master and a teacher. There would be time enough for the hows and whys later. For now that was the only thing that mattered.

It was his responsibility, his duty, to stop Anakin. He was Anakin's father, brother, teacher, master, and partner. Now he was to be his executioner.

Executioner. As if Anakin would sit there placidly and let Obi-Wan kill him. There would be a fight worthy of legend, of that the Jedi was sure. Anakin was a cunning warrior as a Jedi, as a Sith his ruthlessness would ascend to a whole new level. What would be worse, success or another failure?

Did it matter? Obi-Wan felt resigned. He had his duty. That was that. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force. _Those were the principles he tried to live his life by. If he was killed by Anakin those were the principles he would die by.

Obi-Wan was never before given a more important, a more necessary, task. There was never a task he was more reluctant to accept, nor so burdened by.

He went to Amidala's apartment with a heavy heart. If he needed to find Anakin he could start there, he was sure. He barely felt the pang of guilt buried under everything else. Duty now, despair later.

Yet despair was all he felt, stowed away on her ship off to where he didn't know. Just that when he landed that would be it. No more time for thoughts or feelings. It would be time. He sank into meditation to wait.


	6. Of Hellfire and Falling

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus, though he tried.

He tried to make sense of what happened, hoped to that maybe understanding Anakin would allow him to save his padwan rather than kill him. Mediation, quiet your heart, reach out with the Force.

_Breathe in, breathe out. Release your feelings into the Force. He did all he could. Anakin chose on his own._ It didn't help. Didn't ease the burden on his heart. Didn't lessen the weight that was added when he learned Padme was pregnant. Didn't quiet the whisper, "failure". Didn't silence the word "traitor". _Let go. Let go. Breathe in, breathe out._

_Breathe in, breathe out. _The dead youngling's faces silently asking him, "why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you save us?"

His fellow Jedi watching him, questioning, "didn't you hear the council's first warnings? Why did you insist on training him?"

The members of the council, their eyes icy, coldly interrogating him, "why didn't you tell us about his marriage and attachments, the ways he broke the Code, his suspected faults? Was protecting his desires and dreams from our chastising so much more important than protecting our ways and lives?"

_What do you care if numbers of nameless, faceless people die in the vague future if here and now he is content? _the mocking voice from above Genosis murmured, now soft and knowing.

Enough. Mediation. This was second nature to him, something he had done since he was a youngling. _Breathe in, breathe out._

_Breathe in, breathe out._ They had been at war for three years. He lost so many friends; he lost so many who had been like his family. Thirteen years ago he lost his own master and father figure. But he found there was nothing that could truly prepare you for the pain of loosing your own child. Obi-Wan knew that there was always a risk of loosing friends, comrades, soldiers, clones, and Jedi. At war death was a constant companion. She was next to them on the battlefield laughing and gracefully dancing, and hovered over their shoulders in those tense lulls, ever present and softly singing the names of the fallen, patiently waiting. But whatever his conscious mind knew, he realized that his subconscious appeared to have been tricked by Anakin's seeming immortality. The laugher as Anakin took death's hands and pulled her into his games, playing with her as only he could. Always most alive when dancing on the edge of a knife. Still, of all the ways he was consciously prepared to loose Anakin, he never expected this. _Breathe in, breathe out._

_Breathe in, breathe out. Anakin was gone. He made his own choices and was now lost forever. There was nothing to be done save his duty. _This was worse, far worse than loosing Anakin on the field of battle. He was still there. Obi-Wan felt like his apprentice was still there, just beyond his reach, yet close enough to touch. Death was final. Death was whole. Death was complete. There were no loose ends to clean up, no _what-ifs_ to ponder, nothing more to be done. This was the slow fall, the sinking. To late to help. Nothing to do but watch those final moments. He was not prepared for this, he never thought… didn't matter, not time now. He had to deal with reality. He had to make himself ready to look in the eyes of his brother and kill him.

He couldn't do it.

Even though Obi-Wan knew Anakin's faults, even as he attempted to curb Anakin's darkness, he never expected the boy to succumb, had no time to prepare for this nightmare. Anakin had such a good heart... _No. Now was not the time to wax poetic about the past. Clear you heart. Breathe in, breathe out._

Then he was there and everything came back worse than before. Obi-Wan wanted to scream. This was not his padwan, not his Anakin. This yellow-eyed, sneering, hate-filled monster was nothing like the blue-eyed, laughing, cocky warrior he raised.

But it was.

How blind must he have been not to see this creature behind the laughing mask before?

"Then you are lost." And in his heart Anakin was dead. Killed by the deamon in front of him wearing his skin.

Then there was no more time to think because they were there and they were fighting and as much as that hurt, it was also a relief. Because Anakin was an excellent with the saber and Obi-Wan didn't have time to think about anything but_ back, block, side-cut, parry, slash, parry, up-cut, pushed back with the Force, bring up saber to block, slide down in a twist that was meant to disarm _but he knew Anakin would counter so_ shift back to avoid the retaliation._

Fighting over a sea of lava, so much more dangerous than the sea of water that swallowed Icarus. Obi-Wan thought there was a culture whose depiction of hell was similar to this.

Red, erupting surfaces marring the planet's face. Free from its usual constraints it hurled itself down the slope. "Still waters run deep" the Mon Calamari saying went, but while these lava flows were anything but still, they didn't need to be deep to kill. These would burn you, not drown you.

In many ways it was the opposite of the ocean. Bright, blinding, and hot rather than dark, deep, and cold. The sea could be fierce and cruel, but also haughtily apathetic and thus somehow crueler. The river of fire was furious, ranting, and blind in its temper – too passionate, too brutal, to be cruel.

Obi-Wan preferred fire. It was more honest. Fitting that Anakin, passionate, guileless, Anakin should kill or be killed here.

"It's over Anakin, I have the high ground."

Standing in hell, calling, trying to convince Anakin to be careful, too late, too late. Did Obi-Wan really think this would work? Here? Now? Was this a last ditch effort to influence him, a desperate attempt to save him, or was cautioning Anakin against suicidal moves second nature by now?

But what else was he to do?

Anakin wouldn't listen, had he ever listened? Yes, in the beginning, but at some point he stopped. The bond between them frayed at all the wrong points without either of them noticing and was now broken. Still Obi-Wan stood there and called, warned, implored, tried to somehow teach at the edge of Hell's red river what he was unable to in the Temple's hallowed halls.

But Anakin answered back, proud and fierce. Not listening, never listening. Maybe it was Obi-Wan's fault for staying silent one to many times? Or speaking at the wrong moments? No time now because Anakin was tensing, ready to move.

"Don't try it," begging, pleading to stop now while they were both still alive, both still safe. It's over. Just accept it's over. Surrender with grace. We can do something. Figure out a way to change, to redeem, to undo. You are fallen, lost. But not yet drown, dead. Please.

But Anakin did not have the sense to be Daedalus.


	7. Of Oceans, Skies, and Eyes

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus, and now he feared it might cost him, and the universe, again.

He listened to Luke talk with his friends. They bragged and dreamed about the future. They were going to be smugglers, pilots, bounty hunters, the head of powerful gangs, going to invent a machine that would bring water to Tatooine, explore deep space, be and do a hundred things. He knew that when they got older some would fulfill their dreams while others would take up the careers of their fathers and grandfathers.

But it was the emotions he felt that worried him. Some were excited, some hopeful, and some fondly amused as they already knew their dreams wouldn't come true. Luke though felt a powerful longing. The Force surrounded him, sang to him, and he listened. Whatever he heard, though, did not grant him contentment. Instead he said that he was not meant to stay on Tatooine with certainty that was not bragging but a simple fact, much like Anakin said he would marry Amidala some day when he was only nine. Luke was filled with his longing, driven by it. He _needed_ to get off Tatooine. Needed to do more and be more.

Then Obi-Wan saw Luke up close for the first time. He brought the boy back to his, well, cave after the Tusken Raiders were frightened off and took the time as he waited for Luke to wake up to think.

He never really decided what to tell the boy about Anakin. Perhaps telling him the whole story would be better from the start? The Empire could not turn Luke using the truth in a trap if Obi-Wan spoke of it from the beginning. But was having a powerful father too tempting a lure for a moisture farmer's child? Perhaps just speaking of Anakin's fall? Warning Luke, showing him the mistakes his father made so that he might avoid them. But the child was not a fool and would put together what Obi-Wan was not saying. Perhaps he should dole out the story in droplets. Telling Luke only what was needed when it was needed, nothing more. Just as Obi-Wan decided his course Luke woke up.

Then Luke's eyes met his for the first time and Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat. He was told how much Luke looked like Anakin, had seen glimpses when he delivered the infant to the Lars.

But the eyes were a different shade of blue.

Such a small thing, but they were a different shade of blue.

Anakin's eyes were a deep, dark blue. Anakin had the eyes of an ocean in the midst of a tempest unleashed. They always hid more than they revealed, whatever the intent of their owner. His passions reared and crashed without rest while his heart whipped him this way and that in reckless, sharp tooth play.

Luke's eyes were an open, light blue. Luke had the eyes of a cloudless sky brushed by the sun at her most innocent. Emotions glittered, sometimes darting in and out of view playfully. Other times they hovered, fascinated by the world or paused to look out, as bold and shameless as a child.

But then, Obi-Wan supposed that Luke still was a child in many ways for all his almost twenty years while Anakin was forced into adulthood before he reached five years of age.

Eyes of the dark, powerful sea and eyes alluring sun-loved sky. _Icarus, my son, listen to me…it is the heights you must truly fear. _Obi-Wan knew for all the gentle light it could produce, that the sun only looked innocent from the ground. He wondered that Anakin, who grew up on punishing Tatooine, had not been more wary.

_Daedalus was a clever man, but for all his hard won wisdom, for all his best efforts, for all his unconditional love, he had never been able to understand Icarus._

Obi-Wan was a Jedi, even though the Jedi were gone. Jedi did not know fear and he was not afraid. Just… cautious. Obi-Wan did not lie, no. He merely gave a different version of the truth. All the while he looked into sky blue eyes and wished he had been able to talk Owen (stubborn man) into changing Luke's last name from Skywalker to, well, anything else really. Obi-Wan knew that the child must redeem the sins of the father, unfair as that was, and so pulled out the lightsaber he took from the shores of Mustafar. He spoke of destiny, rescues and the Force and watched blue eyes shimmer. Come to Alderaan, shake off the dust and leave behind the ground, fly among the stars. Be a hero, rescue those who call for aid, live up to your father's legacy.

Luke wavered, protested, but Obi-Wan wasn't known as The Negotiator for nothing. Swoop, climb, dive, soar. The hesitation, that's your uncle talking; you don't really want to stay. You're special. You're needed. There is more to the universe than what is beyond the horizon of any one planet. Take the first steps into a larger world. Obi-Wan could taste the bitter irony as he used Anakin's words of long ago to coax his son. Who was he to speak against Owen's sense?

Luke drew a line in the sand, proclaiming he would take "Ben" to Anchorhead, no further. But Obi-Wan knew that sands were ever shifting on Tatooine. So he didn't try to push, that would have the opposite effect. Instead he pulled back, encouraged Luke to choose on his own, do what whatever he felt was right.

Obi-Wan hated himself for it.

Then they were dead and Luke was coming anyway. But not full of passion and fire, rather with quiet desire to be more, not for himself, but for others. Anakin had started with the same motives, but different feelings and Obi-Wan wondered if… but he had his duty.

Two suns watched in silent testimony as Obi-Wan agreed to train Luke like his father before him.

_And Deadalus offered the son of beautiful, fallen Icarus wings._


	8. Of Duty and Deception

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus. He wondered sometimes if that was the reason for his failure.

Sitting aboard _The Millennium Falcon_ Obi-Wan contemplated the discarded helmet while his new student rested. He constantly asked the Force for guidance, with each step undertaken with the utmost seriousness, no matter how casual he made himself out to be. He saw Padme, temperate, levelheaded Padme, in her child, but still, there was so much of Anakin, virtues and vices alike.

_Daedalus landed in Sicily and hung up his wings as an offering to the gods and mourned his child and his failure._

Even though Deadalus never flew again, Obi-Wan vaguely remembered there was a bit more to his story. Daedalus still did his duty, still invented and served the rulers he lived under. Obi-Wan still had his duty to the universe, to the Jedi. Even as he played the wise mentor he was constantly aware of what he was setting up the child to be, to do.

There was the sound of a door being released and voices.

"Well I don't know Chewie." Ah yes, Captain Solo, the smuggler hired to bring them to Alderaan. There was a grunt and a bark. Obi-Wan didn't understand Shyriiwook and spared a brief moment to wish he did.

"I didn't ask. We picked them up on Tatooine. Who asks questions on Tatooine?" Howl, grunt.

"Look, I don't want trouble from the Imps either, but it's a job. We dump them on Alderaan, pay back Jaba, and we're golden." The captain continued. Chewbacca replied.

"It's not like credits are going to fall from the sky." The voices were getting louder as they approached.

"Yeah, well nothing risked, nothing gained, right?" Han's voice was so cocky, so lazily arrogant. Did it come with being a good pilot, was it just that Obi-Wan was flashing back and assigning the traits of another cocky pilot to Captain Solo. The two entered the room where Obi-Wan had been meditating.

Obi-Wan felt Solo's surprise through the Force, but the smuggler covered it expertly.

"Who know what I mean, right Old Man? You go around proclaiming yourself a Jedi, what could be riskier than that?"

"I never really thought of myself as a risk taker I must say," Obi-Wan replied, a perfected grandfatherly smile on his face.

"No? Where's the fun in that? What's the point of living life without risk? I mean, where's the life in planning each and every action to accomplish each and every reasonable goal?" Obi-Wan didn't say anything and Solo threw him a devil-may-care grin and swaggered out.

Obi-Wan held his tongue, resisting the urge to reply. It hadn't worked with Anakin, why would responding work now? Anakin. Why did everything seem to come back to Anakin? All the decisions he made, right and wrong. The choices the young man made then, influencing his old master now.

Family or country? Love or duty? Twice the question was put to him, twice he chose another over his duty, twice he regretted his decision. This third time, he would not answer incorrectly. Obi-Wan felt guilty that this was an easier choice. Easier to put duty before the gentle child he never really met until now while before he put duty behind the passionate child he raised.

He had spent the years on Tatooine thinking, mulling over the same thoughts, same regrets that he had the first night. He went over every point, trying to find that one piece that would make everything fall into place, failed, then went over them again. Trying to find the one moment where he could say, "there. That's it. That's where it all went wrong." But he never succeeded, was never able to understand his former padwan, always brother/son, and now was afraid that he would repeat his past mistakes with another student.

"Ben?" Luke's soft voice came from the doorway, sleepy-eyed. "Is something wrong?"

Strong, and yet untrained. Knowing that there was something wrong, but not about to pick up what.

"Just think about the past, about old mistakes."

"Vader?"

"In a way. Care to train a bit more?"

Luke's eyes lit up, so eager to learn. Obi-Wan felt a pang of something, but decades ago he put emotion before duty so he brushed the feeling aside. Duty now. Duty fist. Duty above all.

He would not repeat old mistakes. Not when there was so much at stake. Not even if it meant deceiving his brother's innocent child.


	9. Of Endings or Beginnings

A/N: Many literary references in this chapter. But if the Star Wars universe can have Greek gods, then maybe they share some of our literature as well? *shurg*

_Daedalus_

Obi-Wan

**Both**

Chapter may be a little confusing, but considering the circumstance I wouldn't be at my most eloquent either.

.

.

.

_Daedalus could never understand Icarus._

Obi-Wan could never understand Anakin.

.

_He tried mind you. He spent the last years of his life doing his duty, but also looking back and wondering._

He tried mind you. He spent the last years of his life doing his duty, but also looking back and wondering.

.

**What could I have done differently?**

.

_He loved his son, his_

He loved his brother, his

.

_Playful_

Charming

_Foolish_

Hotheaded

_Adventurous_

Broken

_Joyful_

Passionate

_Rash_

Careless

_Restless_

Arrogant

_Guileless_

Fallen

_Cocky_

Proud

_Hardheaded_

Frustrating

_Reckless_

Impulsive

**child.**

.

_But he never understood him._

But he never understood him.

.

_He couldn't change the past, nor figure out what he could have done differently if he could._

He couldn't change the past, nor figure out what he could have done differently if he could.

.

_He loved him of course. Icarus was his son, how could he not?_

He loved him of course. Anakin was his brother, how could he not?

.

_But love was not the same as understanding. And love, despite what romantics and bards claimed, was not enough._

But love was not the same as understanding. And love, despite what the holonet and romance novels claimed, was not enough.

.

**It was not enough for the star-crossed lovers, for Tristan and Isolde, Anakin and Padme, Othello and Desdemona, Gasby and Daisy, Orpheus and Eurydice, Nora and Torvald. It was not enough to hold together parents and children, David and Absalom, Willy and Biff, Lear and Cordillera, Shylock and Jessica, Deadalus and Icarus. It was not enough for brotherhood, Ares and Athena, Edmund and Edgar, Austin and Lee, Obi-Wan and Anakin, Cain and Abel.**

.

_Still, he loved him. It was all he could do._

Still, he loved him. It was all he could do.

.

_He couldn't understand his child._

He couldn't understand his child.

.

_Not even as he closed his eyes and died._

Not even as he closed his eyes and died.


	10. Of Impossible Tasks and Hope

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus.

But a small, roughly shoved aside part of him hoped that Luke could. And even as he explained that Anakin was now more machine than man that part of him looked into Luke's darkened eyes (surely that was a trick of the light) and dreamed.

A drown man could not be brought back to life of course and once someone went over to the Dark Side, forever it would dominate their destiny. Salvation for one suffering either fate was impossible.

Still…

Maybe, just maybe Luke understood Icarus,

And could take him from the sea.


	11. Of Understanding and Myths

Obi-Wan never understood Icarus.

"Icarus master?" Anakin looked over at him questioningly. They were walking together having left the celebrations on Endor. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure of their destination. Nor did he know how long they had been walking or even where they were. He supposed it didn't really matter. They had all the time they could possibly want now. Besides, he felt they would probably keep walking until they were to be somewhere else or doing something else. He wasn't really sure about the afterlife yet. Most of his time dead he was assisting things in the Living Universe after all.

"Yes," Obi-Wan shook his head to clear away his musings, realizing he must have spoken out loud, "I always thought you were like him."

"Icarus…Icarus…" Anakin tilted his head up, eyes closing. He was clearly casting his mind back, "wasn't that a Nabooian myth?"

"Yes, of a boy who flew too close to the sun and fell to the sea."

"Yes, yes I think I heard that once – Icarus' sole flight on the wings his father gave him."

"Correct. We had quite the discussion about sense once because of him."

"That's right," Anakin opened his eyes and gave a half-grin. It had not escaped Obi-Wan notice that his former padwan had yet to give a full smile. "But you know there are a lot of differences."

"Oh?"

"For starters Icarus plunged into water while I received baptism by fire."

Obi-Wan winced. He wanted to apologize for that, but knew it was far too soon to bring up Mustafar and had no desire to call Anakin on his deceptive light-heartedness. So instead, "yes, you were always a creature of fire rather than water."

"What can I say? I'm a desert womprat."

"Indeed. And I suppose Palpatine is more suited to water than the sun," he watched carefully but though Anakin flinched slightly and his face stilled, the only sign of strong emotion was a brief flame in ocean blue eyes that burned out before Obi-Wan would have been able to identify it in anyone else. But this wasn't anyone else. This was Anakin and Obi-Wan knew Anakin, even when he didn't understand the younger man.

_"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan stood in the doorway. Anakin started at his master's unexpected entrance, to far into his own world to have sense or heard the older man._

_ "Fine" he replied, emotion flaring briefly in his eyes, "just remembering." He ran a hand through his slightly longer hair. "It's been almost a year since the war began and I was just – thinking."_

_ Deflection. A truth, but one from a certain point of view. The war did begin about a year ago and Anakin was thinking about something that happened last year, but he wasn't thinking about the war, of that Obi-Wan was certain. These were the tricks he used, he could recognize when someone else was trying to use them against him._

_ It took time, but Obi-Wan was finally able to draw out at least a part of the story from Anakin. His mother had died last year on this day, just like he dreamed. That explained the pain, and the guilt. (Of course it wasn't until he was living on Tatooine years later and heard the legend of the "White Ghost" that he realized there was another reason behind his padwan's guilt.)_

So Anakin felt pain and guilt when Palpatine was brought up. Not unexpected.

"Why do you say that?" Anakin asked, managing to sound almost detached.

"Palpatine was a lake. Most people looked in and saw what they wanted to see. He reflected their own dreams and desires back to them and tricked them into believing that he held them."

"Though he didn't," despite the bitterness that managed to creep in, his voice was steady. Anakin was calmer than Obi-Wan expected. But then, it had been twenty-three years since they last spoke properly. "Reflection is not substance."

"A man with moonlight in his hand holds nothing there at all" Obi-Wan quoted softly with a sad smile, remembering the song from a diplomatic mission he and his own master went on so very long ago, before returning to the topic, "some people of course realized there was more, that Palpatine was a lake not a mirror."

"But it was too late to do anything by the time Sidious called up a monster from the depths." There was pain in Anakin's eyes and voice. Obi-Wan decided it was time to move the conversation along.

"You on the other hand are one of the most honest people I know, knew, know. Passionate and restive, eager and restless – definitely more fire than water. And of course there are many more differences between you and Icarus." Despite Obi-Wan's attempt to give the conversation a lighter turn, Anakin's thoughts were still running down a dark path.

"Yes, Icarus had only a quick fall, then it was over. Suddenly the wind goes out from under him, he flaps, but can't fly – then a crash, a splash, and finally just the wind left whispering, 'don't worry, this won't hurt at all'. I was aware of what happened after. I knew I was surrounded by dark, and could see, be tortured with, what I gave up in my madness," he spoke bitterly, self-condemning, "once he fell, he fell. It was over, done. I just kept sinking, finding new depths and new levels of darkness to reach," his mouth twisted and his eyes were focused elsewhere.

Obi-Wan wondered what Anakin was seeing. To speak, or stay silent? He looked over at the scarred man beside him. Anakin was no longer a child, no longer a young man, for him to mentor and guide. Not to mention their relationship was far different. Their bond had been ripped, torn, damaged, broken. They needed to start again, slowly. And it was for Anakin to decide when to confide, when and what he could trust. Obi-Wan just needed to listen, even when he didn't understand. The Jedi felt peace rather than conflict at his decision and felt too for the first time in a long while that he was doing the right thing by Anakin.

He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and smiled. Anakin started, then saw his smile and weakly returned it.

Anakin titled his head back and exhaled. Then he brought his head back down and gave a little smile, visibly more at peace.

They stopped walking and their eyes met. A moment passed between them. Then Anakin gave a mischievous quirk of the lips.

"But do you know what you're greatest mistake was?" he put up a finger.

"What?"

"You" he pointed, "assigned a Nabooian myth to a child of Tatooine," Anakin's almost-grin was back, with a hint of smugness this time "we have our own legends."

"Really. So if we were looking at Tatooine myths who would you be?"

"Birth by fire, on a pyre built by my own hands no less, flying, brought back to life, or at least to the light. I'd have to say a phoenix."

"Phoenix?"

"Haven't you heard of it?"

"I'm afraid Knight Qel never covered any Tatooine legends in our Cultures and Myths class."

Anakin snorted, "probably didn't consider us civilized enough to have a culture."

Obi-Wan decided not to comment on that, "tell me about this phoenix then."

Obi-Wan smiled as they started to walk again and Anakin began talking about five hundred-year-old burning birds, irrationally glad of the differences between Anakin and Icarus. Nodding and commenting as Anakin spoke not of pride, childishness, death, and despair, but of folly, sacrifice, rebirth, and victory. The similarities were still there, but it could be this phoenix was a much better fit. He hoped so. He wished to know Anakin, not as strongly or desperately as before, it was no longer an overpowering need, but still. He loved his brother/son and wanted to understand him.

And Obi-Wan never understood Icarus.


End file.
